February 17, 2012 12:16:05 PM

Mary Ann


The summer we moved back to America for good, I was 14. We packed the blue minivan my grandparents bought for us in Chicago and started the thousand mile drive to Colorado. “First person to spot the mountains wins,” my dad challenged. For the last 150 miles after we left Kansas, my brother and I sat in the back seat with heads tilted to the center, eyes unblinking, straining towards the horizon.

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